


As Stars Fall In The Night

by destimushi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Going to The University of Kansas, and being back home in Lawrence, was Dean's grand plan for the past three years. When he finally moved into his new room on campus, a visit from a ghost from Dean's past left him feeling angry, confused, and worst of all still in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> After a very long block and some major changes in my life, I finally decided to try my hand at writing again. A big thanks to the wonderful [JhanaMay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay) for her ninja beta skills. 
> 
> Inspired by a very small aspect of [this](http://exwitchcloak.tumblr.com/post/62310590203/hs-au-in-which-its-the-first-night-dean-sleeps-in) prompt. 
> 
> I've never been to KU, so I apologize if I messed up any of the frosh week events. If anyone finds anything glaring, please let me know!

The bus impatiently pulled away from the curb with a puff of exhaust. Dean turned and rolled his eyes at the receding vehicle, feeling almost sorry for the surly driver; it must be so exhausting living in a permanent state of douchebaggery. He straightened his jacket, shouldered his bag, and squinted into the afternoon sun as he scanned left and right, searching for the street sign. 

The bus stop shouldn’t be far from the residence building, or at least that’s what the map that Charlie insisted he print indicated. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone – an old school flipper that texted and called – and checked the time. They were early, but not by much. 

Behind him, Sam whistled low and exclaimed, “Wow.”

“What?” Dean turned and cocked an eyebrow at his little brother. 

“Just can’t believe you’re actually a college student now.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

“Have you met you?”

“Oh shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean gave his little brother a shove and mused, not for the first time, just how much Sam had grown over the summer. Suddenly, his voice was two octaves lower and Dean was losing when they fought for the cereal, even though he was straining up on his tippy toes. Dean almost missed the chubby little boy with the high pitched voice. “Wait till mom hears about your potty mouth, Sammy.” Dean smirked and set off down the sidewalk. 

“You wouldn’t.” Dean felt the stab of Sam’s glared on the back of his neck as Sam chased after him, his long legs swallowing the gap between them in a heartbeat. “Besides, you started it!”

“Yeah, but I’m an adult now,” Dean replied smugly. “I can say whatever I want.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’ll send you off to bed without supper for that one.” 

Dean’s smirk grew wider as Sam glared daggers at him instead of responding. Even at fifteen, the kid chose his battles wisely. 

It was a hot, lazy August day, and a week before classes officially started, so Dean was surprised to see so many students buzzing around on campus. He set a leisurely pace as they strolled towards the rendezvous point, passing students lounging on lush green lawns on either side of the path. Some wore headphones and bobbed their heads to silent tunes, soaking up the last of the sun before the weather turned, while others buried their noses in a good book.

It was easy to tell the freshmen from the rest, they all had an edge of giddy nervousness to them – their bags clutched close as they explored the vast campus – that reminded Dean of someone on a first date. He hoped he wasn’t giving off that vibe and squared his shoulders, trying to look less nervous than he felt. 

Sam must have also picked up on the nervous excitement in the air, as he swiveled his head rapidly to take in the sights “Aren’t you glad I told you about the orientation?”

“Yeah sure, it only cost me a week’s worth of pay to come out just for that,” Dean snorted, but deep down, he was thankful that Sam had nagged him about it until he agreed to go. 

“What, it was worth it, no?” Sam looked a bit hurt, his confidence wavering. The look of uncertainty sent a shaft of guilt straight through Dean. Damn that boy, and his puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, uh, absolutely. I got my campus WiFi login set up, and had someone help with registering courses,” Dean answered quickly. “I’m all set and ready to go.” He left out the part where his hands shook when he packed, and when Sam suggested he come with Dean for move in day, Dean would have been all too happy to stuff his little brother in his bag along with his underwear.

It was always part of the plan to move back to Lawrence, although it saddened Dean that Mary still couldn’t face living here. Lawrence held all that was dear to Dean; memories of growing up with the smell of Mary’s freshly baked pies and the feel of engine grease between his fingers when he was finally old enough to fix cars with dad and uncle Bobby. 

They didn’t talk about dad much, but being back here made the memories a little less jagged. 

They rounded the corner on Engel Road and the giant residence building loomed before them. He slowed down and gazed up at the neat rows of brick and concrete, his nervousness poking out between the seams of his bravado.

Dean scrubbed a sweaty palm down his face just as Sam nudged his shoulder gently and pointed him towards a petite figure running towards them, her flaming red hair whipping about in a ponytail.

“Hey, bitches!” 

“Charlie!” Dean’s eyes lit up, his nerves all but forgotten as he picked up his pace and ran towards his childhood friend. Charlie crashed into Dean, lanky limbs wrapping around him, squeezing him like a tube of toothpaste.

“Took you long enough,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck, her arms around him like a vice. “And you brought Sam!”

Dean hugged Charlie for a fraction of a second longer, basking in the fierceness of her embrace, before peeling away. “It’s good to finally see you again.”

“Three bloody years, Winchester, and you only called me twice,” Charlie said indignantly, but her tone was light and her eyes twinkled. 

“Dude, we texted almost every day!” Dean rolled his eyes incredulously. 

She pointedly ignored Dean and turned to look up, way up, at Sam, giving him an obvious once over. “Jesus Sammy, when I saw you last, you were like this tall?” Charlie raised her hand to her shoulder and waggled her fingers. No doubt she was as impressed as Dean at just how massive Sam was becoming. “What are they feeding you in L.A?” 

“Only the best growth hormones, of course,” Sam laughed and darted in for a quick hug. 

“No doubt.” Charlie picked up the bag she’d gracelessly discarded when she jumped on Dean and beat the dirt off the canvas before looping the strap over her shoulder. “Let’s go find your room; then you owe me three years worth of gossip over dinner.”

The three of them took off at a brisk pace. Despite Charlie’s shorter legs, she led them across campus, though she had to scramble to stay ahead of the boys. They bypassed the south wing of the complex, though not before the short redhead ground to a halt and pointed at a window; it was too ambiguous for Dean to tell which one. “That there on the fourth floor, three windows to to the left, is my room,” she announced. “I get my own private suite and only share the living room with one other girl. How awesome is that?”

Dean opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when Charlie steamrolled right into reciting the building’s history brochure (turned out this was a brand new complex, who knew?), the layout of the two residence wings, and the fabulous, luxurious couches in the common area. 

“...And you gotta try the pie from the cafeteria, it might give Mrs. Winchester a run for her money,” Charlie deadpanned, but the corner of her lips twitched slightly as she stole a glance at Dean. 

“No one makes a better pie than mom,” Dean growled. Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

The double glass doors of Daisy Hill Commons opened into a gorgeous, spacious lobby. Multi-colour cushioned stools were clustered in front of a glass-walled conference room. The front desk was immediately to the right of the entrance, with warm-coloured wood panels wrapped around the counter. The same type of wood decorated the walls, connecting with a similarly fashioned ceiling. Pots of florescent lights were strategically placed all over, illuminating the lobby with a welcoming, bright light. 

Dean’s boots squeaked on the linoleum floor as he walked up to the receptionist, and swallowed nervously, wiping the palm of his hands down his jeans. This was ridiculous, he was Dean fucking Winchester, and he was never too scared to speak to anyone. 

“Um, excuse me–” Dean glanced at the name tag pinned on the girl’s pink cardigan, “Becky? My name is Dean, Dean Winchester, and today is my move in day?”

Becky looked up from her novel and scowled. “Dean Winche...Come again?”

“Winchester.” Dean put on his best smile, all pearly whites and crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and breathed a soft sigh of relief as the receptionist blushed and busied herself with the computer. 

It took her only a moment to find his name. She scribbled down his floor and room number, and handed him an envelope along with the handwritten note, promising that everything he needed to know would be in the welcome package. 

“If you have any questions, your Hawk Leader would be able to answer them for you.” She smiled shyly at him.

Dean flashed her another charming smile and noted that she only went back to her book after he, Charlie, and Sam turned down the hallway leading to the north side of the complex. 

The lobby of the north wing, Oswald Hall, was just as brightly lit as the common area, if not as lavishly furnished, and the floor was covered in a thick carpet that reminded Dean of pumpkin spice and Thanksgiving. Charlie yanked the sheet of paper with Dean’s room information out of his hand and punched the up button for the elevator. Three years later and she was just as bossy as Dean remembered. It was good to know that some things never change.

Charlie led the way and got off on the third floor, making a right-hand turn as they exited the elevator. Dean noted that the carpet here was a winter grey, less cheerful but just as lush. The three of them checked the number on every door down the narrow hallway until Sam found his room, and Dean fished the keycard out of his welcome package to slip into the electronic key slot. 

The door opened up into a narrow, short hallway. To the left stood two large closets, one empty with the door open, and the other shut. Directly across from the closets was a door leading to a small bathroom. Dean was disappointed to see a standing shower. He was kind of looking forward something more communal, maybe even co-ed. 

The three of them jostled into the room, where two loft beds were set up on opposite ends. Each bed had a desk and a filing cabinet tucked neatly underneath. 

The bed on the right side of the room – the side hidden from the doorway – was already made, with the blanket and top sheet tucked neatly under the mattress. On the desk was a lamp and a closed laptop, Dean could only assume that everything else was stowed away in drawers. Everything in that corner of the room screamed sterile order, without even a small poster on the wall.

“Damn, looks like your roommate is a real neat freak.” Charlie waggled her eyebrows as she dropped her bag unceremoniously onto the floor. She flopped down in the loveseat that separated the two sides of the room, her skinny legs dangling over the arm. Sam threw himself into the chair in front of the desk to the left and slowly spun as he took in the tiny room. 

“I’m not a slob like you,” Dean snorted. “I’m sure I’ll live.” He dropped his duffle into Charlie’s lap and began unloading the few items of clothing he’d brought with him. Even after living in L.A for all those years, Dean refused to get into what he considered hipster fashion. Instead, he opted to keep his flannels and plain t-shirts and jeans. He did manage to collect an impressive amount of band tees, the majority of which he was forced to leave behind when he packed for school. 

It didn’t take long to hang up all of his clothes. Dean checked over his shoulder, made sure that Sam and Charlie were in a heated debate over something only brainiacs like them would argue about, before cracking his roommate’s closet doors open. He knew it was wrong to snoop, but the guy didn’t even put up a poster. You know who else don’t put up posters? Crazy people, that’s who. 

A row of polo shirts, organized from warm hues to cool, greeted Dean’s curiosity, alongside a few pairs of blue jeans and some khaki shorts. On the floor of the closet was a pair of white tennis shoes. Dean breathed in sharply. It must be a coincidence. After all, what were the chances that _he_ would be here, attending KU, let alone be here, sharing a room with him? Didn’t Charlie say something about Daisy Hill being for freshmen only? 

Dean slid the door shut with a high pitched squeak, glad that Charlie and Sam were busy hanging up his Led Zeppelin poster and arranging his photo frames to notice him snooping. He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment. When his lungs deflated, he felt the tension flow out of him. Although the tendrils of the memory still touched his heart, it didn’t hurt anymore. He wouldn’t allow it to hurt anymore. 

“Dude, you still have this old thing?” Charlie picked up the picture of Baby and ran her fingers down the cool glass, leaving a greasy trail. 

“Of course.” Dean snatched the frame out of her hands. He fogged up the glass with a puff of hot breath and wiped it clean with a corner of his t-shirt. The ‘67 Chevvy Impala gleamed once more. “She’s the last thing dad gave me. She doesn’t run yet, but she will.” 

Charlie’s smile wavered, her mouth opened, and Dean could almost hear the words she was about to say; after all, he’d heard them a thousand times. No amount of _I’m sorry_ ’s and _my condolences_ ’s could bring John back. He shook his head and mouthed, “It’s okay, please don’t,” and was thankful when Charlie pressed her lips together in a muted line. The apologetic look in her eyes was enough.

Dean glanced over at Sam and gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. Their gaze locked for a moment and Dean caught the momentary flash of grief that still lingered in those smokey grey eyes. Three years was a long time, but it wasn’t long enough to heal the gaping hole in their chests left by their father’s passing. Sam cleared his throat and looked away first. 

“Hey look–” the younger boy’s voice faltered, but only slightly, “these beds are all extra long twins. Maybe I should come to KU just for that. Though I’m not sure how I feel about loft beds still.” 

“Ha, you might fall off and crack open that big head of yours,” Charlie piped in, her voice was too high, but it dissipated the smog of sadness that had settled in the room. Sam glared at her, the sheer childishness of the expression made Dean laugh. Sometimes it was hard to remember that this lumbering giant was still just a kid. 

Dean left Sam and Charlie to finish arranging his desk. The first rung of the ladder groaned under Dean’s weight as he stepped up to fit fresh sheets on his mattress. He shook out the pillowcase and breathed in the lingering scent of Mary’s lemon detergent. For a moment, a pang of homesickness engulfed him. 

Dammit, Dean. It’s not even the first day of the semester yet, pull yourself together.

The lock beeped. A hush fell over the room abruptly as they all turned to stare down the hall. Dean hopped off the ladder and smoothed down his t-shirt. He was looking forward to finally meeting his roommate and was determined to make a great first impression.

The door swung open with a whisper and a young man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes stepped into the room. He looked up, his startled expression melting into a friendly, toothy smile, no doubt realizing that the strangers in his room were more likely friends of his new roommate, rather than robbers. 

Suddenly the already small dorm room felt claustrophobic.

“Which one of you is my roommate?” He looked from Dean to Sam, then to Charlie. His smile widened as he ambled in and let the door swing shut behind him. “My name is Castiel, but you can call me Cas.” 

Dean couldn’t breathe. Time screeched to a jarring halt and flung Dean back down memory lane. An image of a younger boy with the same dark brown hair, the same burning blue eyes, and the same goddamn easy smile surfaced from a pool of repressed memories. He watched as Castiel extended his hand to Sam for a handshake, then Charlie, their movements sluggish as if dragging through mud. The room shrunk as Castiel turned to Dean. He stared at the outstretched hand between them and long forgotten emotions reared their ugly heads to mock him. 

_He didn’t even recognize you._

Silence swallowed the room, awkward and suffocating. Dean flicked his gaze from the waiting hand to Castiel’s face and noted the pinched brows as his smile wavered. He wanted to put the past behind him, and he thought he had, but seeing Castiel now was like a stab to the chest, opening an old wound that was still too raw. 

Dean couldn’t decide which hurt more, the lack of recognition or the sound of Castiel’s mocking laughter. 

Shock was chased away by anger. Dean felt the rising panic melt away, transforming into something cold and heavy that settled into the pit of his stomach. He glared at Castiel’s hand, still held out between them, and watched the fingers twitch with uncertainty. Without a word, Dean turned and grabbed his nearly empty bag, uncaring of its contents, and stormed out. He yanked on the door to slam it shut, but the anti-slam hydraulic door closer slowed it down and it swung shut with a gentle click. Well, fuck you too, stupid door.

Dean stopped in front of the elevator and turned to the sound of Charlie and Sam running after him. Of course, Castiel wasn’t with them; he was an asshole then, what made Dean think he’d be any different now.

“Hey, dude, what the hell?” Sam demanded, his large hands resting on his skinny hips as he skidded to a halt beside Dean. 

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Dean growled. He jabbed the down button a few more times as if doing so would make the elevator arrive faster. 

“Buddy, that was seriously rude.” Charlie caught up with them just as the elevator door slid open. “Do you know that guy or something?”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he nodded curtly instead. 

The three of them stepped into the elevator. Charlie and Sam exchanged worried glances behind Dean’s back, but no one spoke as they stepped out of the elevator and left the building. 

Dean charged ahead blindly, not caring where he was going and desperate to put some distance between himself and Castiel. It was still the same hot, lazy, August afternoon, but the warmth of the sun no longer reached him. There was a coldness oozing out from deep within him, chilling his bones and tainting the rich shades of colours around him into dull shadows.

It wasn’t until Dean saw the rows of bleachers that he realized he’d trekked halfway across campus. The sun was setting, painting the trees with a golden glow and casting long, mournful shadows across the neatly trimmed grass. He slumped down on the bleachers, exhausted, and shivered as the cool evening breeze chilled his sweaty skin. Dean felt Charlie and Sam settle down on either side of him, and he was grateful that neither spoke, waiting patiently for Dean to make the first move instead. 

“Hey Charlie, can I crash with you tonight?” Dean muttered eventually.

“Sure thing, whatever you need.” 

***

Dean woke to a string of curses raining down from above. He rolled over on the thin air mattress and tried to pull the blanket over his head as he curled in on himself, sleep already reclaiming his semi-consciousness. Charlie poked Dean’s back with her toes incessantly, her voice, though laced with panic, sounded as groggy as he felt. 

“Dean,” she groaned, “dude, wake up.”

Dean grunted something garbled as he scooped his blankets close to his chest, snuggling the bundle. 

“Dean.” More garbled grumbling. “For fuck’s sake, Winchester– ” Charlie’s toes jabbed harder and deeper into Dean’s kidney with each word. “It’s 8:40, we’re going to be late.”

It took a moment for the words to worm through the fog, and when it finally sank in, Dean bolted straight up, his eyes bloodshot and panicked. “Fuck, Char, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“I just woke up myself,” Charlie groused as she fought with a pair of jeans.

“I thought you set an alarm?” Dean was having the same fight with his own pants while attempting to pull on a fresh T-shirt. 

“I did, but we must have slept through it.” 

“This is why we use real alarm clocks,” Dean growled, finally getting his left arm into the sleeve. Charlie pushed past him and yanked her bag from under the bed, their heads bumping as they tried to maneuver around the tiny bedroom. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my phone. Maybe, we shouldn’t have stayed at the stupid fair so late,” Charlie shot back irritably. After the two had dropped Sam off at the airport, Dean had insisted they check out the recreation fitness center, where the last event of the first day of Hawk Week was held. 

“I wasn’t the one that wouldn’t stop taking selfies at the photo booth with that brunette,” Dean bit back as the two of them pushed past the door into the main living room. Charlie paused, her eyes twinkled deviously as she flashed Dean a dreamy smile. 

“She was pretty hot, though, you gotta admit,” Charlie sing-songed her way to her small stash of snacks.

“I couldn’t tell.” Dean yanked on his boots. “I didn’t get a good look at her while you two were literally sucking face all night.” He smirked and caught a granola bar flying for his head. 

The hall was empty as the two of them raced toward the stairs. All the other students must have already left to attend Jayhawk Jumpstart, a mandatory introductory program aimed to enrich their first-year experience. Dean checked his phone for the time and cursed softly. There was just enough time to get to their respective groups, maybe.

They burst out of the stairwell in a tangle of bag straps and flailing limbs. Charlie looked like she wanted to say something, but decided against it and darted in for a quick hug before running off in search of her group. Dean was glad she didn’t tell him to try and feel better, or some other form of small encouragement. He didn’t need to think about that right now, even if thoughts of Castiel plagued his dreams all last night.

Dean wasn’t keen on going back to his residence wing, but his group was meeting near the back door. He made a mental note to put in a request for a room change as soon as he could get away from what looked to be a jam packed day.

Groups of students gathered around the residence building, each of them with different coloured shirts, and someone Dean assumed to be the leader holding up a sign with the name of the group printed in large letters. He squinted into the morning sun until he saw a sign reading “The Hawkers’’ written in alternating black and blue letters. He checked his phone again and breathed a sigh of relief as he joined the group with minutes to spare.

However, his relief was short-lived. At the head of the group was Castiel, wearing his Hawk Leader T-shirt, waving the sign absentmindedly as he chatted with a pretty girl with wavy brown hair. Dean took a deep breath; his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line as despair warred with anger. It was just his luck that, of all the groups present, that Castiel was his leader. 

It did make a little sense now, though, why Castiel stayed in a freshmen residence hall. 

Dean cussed under his breath, long and colourful, and looked up to find Castiel’s eyes trained on him. Their gaze locked and Dean felt something akin to ice water run down his spine. This was not how he envisioned the start of his new life, with a visit from the ghost of Christmas past. Okay, maybe he was being a little melodramatic, but at fifteen Castiel had broken more than just his heart. 

Dean broke away from Castiel’s scrutiny and turned to the first person he could find to strike up a conversation. “Hey, how’s it going? I’m Dean.”

The shorter man turned and broke into a wide grin. “Name’s Ash,” he replied, his hand thrust out upright between them for a bro shake. “And I’m doing just fine.”

Dean gripped the offered hand firmly and glanced from Ash’s sleeveless red flannel to his baggy blue jeans, both knees so torn up he could clearly see Ash’s knobby knees. Ash pulled him in for a shoulder bump, and Dean could swear he caught Ash sniffing his hair. As creepy as that should have been, Dean felt relaxed, like as if this near stranger’s air of chill was contagious. 

“I’m digging the hair,” Dean commented as he pulled back. 

Ash’s grin grew wider as he ran his fingers through the mullet and replied with quirked eyebrows, “This here? All business up front, party in the back.” 

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Castiel’s voice cut through the excited chatter around them. Dean gave Ash a nod and then turned to face the front of the group. 

His voice was deeper than Dean remembered, more gravel, and there was a hoarseness that was not present when they were in high school. Castiel was introducing himself to the group, but Dean barely heard it as he studied Castiel closer. 

His hair was longer, but the unruly mop still looked as if the man had never heard of a comb. There was stubble on his chin, rounding the hard angles of his jaw, and his lips were rosy pink and slightly chapped. He was wearing the official Hawk Leader T-shirt, but his bootcut jeans hugged his slender hips like a glove. 

Even after three years, even after Dean had convinced himself that somehow his fifteen-year-old brain had embellished his memories of Castiel by making the man more attractive than he actually was, he still found himself drawn to him. Dean caught himself staring and averted his eyes, but not quickly enough. 

Castiel was giving a detailed breakdown of the day’s events. His tone was light, but his gaze held Dean captive, burning into him like blue fire. He seemed slightly confused, but there was an edge of tentative recognition. Dean felt a lick of guilt but pushed it away angrily. He wasn’t the one at fault here.

The group moved towards Lied Center, with Castiel spearheading the mob of students. Dean hung back, his hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled along. 

Jayhawk Jumpstart turned out to be a lot more fun than Dean expected and the three-hour event passed by with a blur. He was surprised to find himself being dragged into all that positive energy, but before he knew it, he was cheering and clapping at the speeches and mingling with the rest of the student body along with everyone else. 

When noon finally rolled around, and the group was set free to forage for food, Dean’s stomach was worried that his throat had been cut. He went looking for Charlie with Ash in tow and wasn’t all that surprised to find the redhead linking arms with the pretty brunette from the night before. 

“I see you’ve made a friend,” Charlie piped up as soon as Dean was within earshot. 

“Charlie, meet Ash.” Dean introduced him as Ash went in for yet another bro shake; the man apparently wasn’t capable of a normal handshake. “I see you found your old friend–” Dean paused, suddenly embarrassed that he never got the girl’s name.

“Dorothy,” she filled him in with a smirk. 

“Right,” Dean said lamely. 

The small group found a nearby cafe and settled in for a quick lunch. Unionfest – six floors of student organized fare, with free food samples, games, performers, and music, according to Castiel – wasn’t until seven in the evening. Dean took this opportunity to request a room change and was told that it might take a while before they could make arrangements. Something about needing to wait and see if a vacancy comes up. Charlie offered Dean her air mattress until the rooms were sorted out, and got a dirty look and a warning from the administration lady that they couldn’t keep guests in their rooms for more than a week at a time.

When he stormed out of his room the day before, Dean hardly paid attention to the contents of his bag. There was no way he could make it through one more night on Charlie’s floor with nothing but a small stack of cassette tapes (because it just doesn’t sound the same on a CD) and an undershirt. A trip to his room was inevitable, but that didn’t mean Dean wasn’t going to put it off for as long as possible. 

He bid farewell to Charlie and Dorothy after lunch and explored around campus with Ash. They found the Kansas Union building, where Unionfest was held, and Kansas Union Plaza for the dance after. Dean hadn’t planned on attending the dance, but now that he had no room to relax in, having somewhere to go was not such a bad idea. Ash promised he’d be there and offered Dean to join him and his friends if and when Charlie ditched him with her “hot piece of ass.” 

The room was empty when Dean finally slinked through the door. The sun hung low, its fading light casting a saturated, orange glow across the room. Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and stepped back just enough to yank open his closet door. 

A few t-shirts and a fresh pair of jeans should be enough. Dean balled them up and shoved them hastily into his duffle bag, then paused as he shut the bifold door. Why was he acting like a goddamn criminal? This was still his room, at least until the change request was processed. Dean stomped over to his bed and pulled out his rumpled clothes. He folded them quickly, then shoved the shirts back in along with his pillow. 

He glanced at his books but decided against them. He didn’t need them for another week and didn’t feel like lugging them around in his bag until he found Charlie again to drop everything off in her room. Dean looked over at Castiel’s immaculately made bed, the sheets tucked under the corners. There was a half eaten chocolate bar on his desk, the only imperfection in all that organization. Dean took a deep breath and stared a moment longer before turning to leave. 

The door opened with that same quiet whisper. Dean froze, making a perfect impression of a deer in headlights. Castiel also froze as he stepped into the room, the door swung shut lazily behind him with a deafening click. Dean felt sick, and this time, it had nothing to do with the questionable fish tacos he had for lunch. 

Silence stretched between them. Dean felt small under Castiel’s steady gaze. He scrubbed a hand down his chin and let out a soft sigh before heading for the door, expecting Castiel to step aside. Instead, the man planted himself in Dean’s path and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean’s eyes flicked to the stretch of fabric around his arms.

“Excuse me,” he grumbled.

“No.” Castiel’s voice was firm but not aggressive.

“Get out of the way, buddy.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell I did to deserve this.” 

Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. He did his best to avoid Castiel. All he wanted was to make it through Hawk Week, move out of this room, and never see those damn blue eyes again. It was obvious Dean wasn’t important enough for Castiel to even remember, yet suddenly, he wanted answers, answers Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to give. 

“What, you don’t remember?” Dean replied, glad that his voice didn’t waver.

“Anything else you’d like to share with the class, Captain Obvious?” Castiel cocked an eyebrow and squared his shoulders, causing the T-shirt to pull even more tightly across his biceps. 

“You know, I don’t have to take this shit from you.” Dean pushed himself past Castiel, spinning the slightly shorter man in the process. He reached for the door handle, but Castiel’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause. 

“Hey, look. I know I’m no saint, and I want to apologize for whatever it is that I did.” Castiel sounded sincere, with no trace of his earlier sarcasm. “I...I recognize you, I think, but, help me out here?”

Dean looked over his shoulder and almost felt lost. He wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotions that came crashing down on him. He thought he’d moved past all the rejection and all that hurt, even convinced himself that he was stronger for it. Obviously, that wasn’t the case; he wasn’t the boy who loved too quickly anymore, but he was still the fool that couldn’t fall out of love fast enough. 

Castiel was waiting for an answer, but Dean didn’t know how to give it to him. He felt angry, but anger was much easier to deal with than that other cocktail of feelings he did not order. “Look, man, just forget it. Back off.” The door groaned as Dean yanked it open; he glanced back once more before setting off for the elevator and was almost happy to see the look of confusion and exasperation on Castiel’s face. Almost.

***

When Dean woke up to the sound of his alarm clock the next morning, Charlie was nowhere in sight. He pulled the blankets over his head and shut his eyes, enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet; Dean never thought he’d miss his own company so much. 

He stayed cocooned until it became too warm to bear and rolled onto his feet with a soft groan. Dean rubbed his neck gingerly and glared at the air mattress as if he could make the thing more comfortable with sheer will. Charlie had offered to share the bed with him, but Dean declined. Even with Charlie’s slender build, it would be a tight fit in the standard twin, no point in neither of them getting some sound sleep. 

A rumpled note fell out of Dean’s jean pocket as he slipped them on. Charlie’s loopy handwriting informed him that she’d gone off to the honour student scavenger hunt and that she was going to be caught up with other honour’s activities until Movie on the Hill in the evening. 

Dean booted up Charlie’s laptop, his own still in his room, and checked the day’s schedule. There were a few events Dean had planned to hit up with Ash, but he was still required to check in with their group leader before starting his day. Memories of the brief conversation with Castiel from the day before surfaced unbidden, making it really tempting to simply skip the morning meeting altogether. 

A breakfast of leftover pizza didn’t ease the queasiness in his stomach every time he thought about heading down to the lobby and facing Castiel. A part of him, the part that was still attracted to the man, wanted to forgive and forget, maybe even try for friendship with the guy. But the fifteen-year-old boy inside him fought teeth and claws against that idea. Maybe he wasn’t quite as grown up as he’d hoped. 

As much as Dean did not want to see his Hawk Leader, he had no way of contacting Ash to change their meeting place (that’ll teach Dean to not ask for a phone number or even an e-mail address). With a sigh of resignation, Dean grabbed his bag and headed for the elevator. Ash waved his free hand just as Dean rounded the corner, his other hand occupied by a bagel. Castiel was also there, surrounded by three girls Dean recognized from the day before, his smile easy as he chatted with them. 

“Morning, Dean,” Ash greeted Dean with a slow smile. 

“Hey,” Dean replied as he stole a glance toward Castiel. He didn’t think Castiel saw him come in and was sorely unprepared for the pair of intense blue eyes staring straight at him. Dean pressed his lips together and looked away quickly.

Ash looked over his shoulder at Castiel, then back at Dean, and asked through a bite of bagel, “Why is our leader staring daggers at us?” 

Dean shrugged. “I duno.”

“Uh huh, and this ain’t a delicious everything bagel with shmear.” Ash took another large bite before continuing. “Is there some history between you two?”

Dean thought about denying it, but something told him that Ash was a lot sharper than his devil-may-care attitude suggested. “Yes. No. Well, maybe.”

Ash cocked an eyebrow and was about to say something when Castiel called for the group’s attention. Dean breathed yet another sigh, glad he didn’t have to explain himself further. Castiel went over the day’s events, and due to a few of them overlapping with each other, they were going to be navigating without their leader until the evening. Throughout his speech, it looked like Castiel tried repeatedly to catch Dean’s attention, but Dean was adamant on studying the dirty spot on his boot and refused to look up. 

As soon as the group broke apart, Dean shoved his hands deep into his pockets and bolted out of the complex. He thought he heard Castiel call his name as he pushed through the glass doors. Ash caught up with him as he jogged down the steps, heading towards the lawn games set up across from Daisy Hill Commons. 

Dean threw himself into the games with a vengeance, starting with spike ball. Ash tagged along and humoured Dean as they worked their way through the entire field. By the end of it Dean felt sore, but a lot more relaxed than he had been since he arrived in Lawrence. 

“You know, they say exercise is a good way to clear the mind.” Ash pulled out the elastic in his hair and plunked himself down on the lush grass. 

“Yeah? Well, it’s working,” Dean replied with a beaming smile and collapsed down next to his new friend. A warm breeze blew across his sweaty skin and Dean felt refreshed, mentally and physically. Maybe he should take up running or something. 

“Now that you’re all sound of mind, maybe it’s time to sort out whatever it is between you and blue eyes, eh?” 

Dean felt himself deflate a little. “I was hoping to make it through the week, move out, and finally leave the past where it belongs.”

“Wait, you guys are roommates?” 

“Were,” Dean corrected quickly, too quickly. “Well, we are now, but I already requested a room change.”

“Shame,” Ash smirked and pushed himself to his feet. 

Dean never had the chance to ask for an explanation as Ash’s friends dropped in on them. The group made their way through Hawkfest, learning about all the different groups and clubs the student body had to offer while stuffing themselves full of junk food. Whenever he had a moment to himself, Dean would catch his thoughts drifting toward Castiel, like the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how his whole body shook with laughter when someone told a particularly good joke. 

He tried to tell himself that it was pointless thinking about the guy, after all, he’d already ruthlessly rejected Dean once, but there was a small nagging voice in the back of his head that chanted _what if_? 

Movie Night on the Hill turned out to be a crowd favourite. The lawn was already crowded with people when Dean found Charlie and Dorothy, lounging on an extra large beach towel. He bid Ash and his friends farewell, with more bro shakes of course, and sauntered over to join the girls. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Dean teased.

Charlie rolled her eyes and passed him a greasy paper bag. “Best burger on campus, don’t say I never did anything nice for you.” 

The burger was as good as Charlie promised. Dean wiped his fingers on a napkin and sighed, his stomach bulging as he laid back on the towel and imagined this must be what a busted can of biscuits felt like. The new Star Wars movie was projected on the side of Memorial Stadium, and Dean was more than content to focus on the intergalactic battles and underlying homosexual subtext. He glanced over at Charlie and snorted when he caught her with Dorothy’s tongue down her throat. Jesus. 

“Hey, Dean.”

He didn’t hear the soft voice calling his name at first, not until he felt Charlie’s bony fingers digging into his ribs. Dean looked up, and all the warm contentment drained out of him like a sieve. “Yo, Cas.” 

“I’d like to have a word with you,” Castiel whispered. Dean felt if they guy didn’t want to ruin everyone’s movie viewing experience, then he shouldn’t have come looking for any “word” at all.

“I’m kinda busy ogling the pilot here.” Charlie jabbed him harder; it would be a miracle if his ribs weren’t bruised. He glared at her, and she gave him a look that told him to stop acting like a jackass. 

People craned around to see what the whispered voices were all about, and someone from behind said not so softly that Castiel should “sit down or get the hell out of here.” Dean rolled to his feet and stomped off, not checking to see if Castiel was following him. Dean didn’t stop until they were well away from the crowd, the movie now a distant echo of sounds and fast moving pictures. “Okay, you wanted to have a word with me? So shoot.”

“Shoot?” Castiel shot back all the while glaring at Dean. “Why don’t you start by telling me just what gives you the right to act like such an asshole?” 

Dean wasn’t sure what he expected from Castiel, but anger certainly wasn’t it. “Me? The asshole? That’s rich, Cas.” Dean spat out Cas’ name as if it physically made him sick just saying it. 

“Yeah, you,” Castiel replied, not intimidated by Dean’s tone. “You come walking into my life, accuse me of some bullshit I didn’t do, then play the victim and make me feel like a total douchebag.”

“You–” 

“I’m not finished,” Castiel cut Dean off curtly. “I tried apologizing, for what I don’t even know, but you can’t be a decent human being long enough to fill me in. What did I do that was so fucking horrendous? I thought about just letting it go, especially since you didn’t come back to the room, and you’ve put in for a transfer. But you know what? As your Hawk Leader, I’m stuck with you for another whole week, so I want some answers.”

Dean let the words sink in, guilt clawing its way up his throat like tiny spiders. Underneath all that anger, Castiel looked like he’d been kicked in the gut. Dean chewed on his bottom lip before opening his mouth, but no words came out. It all seemed so silly now, holding onto an upset that should have faded with time. Castiel wasn’t wrong. He did try to apologize, but Dean wouldn’t let him because it was easier to be angry than to admit to himself, and Castiel, that he was still in love with him. 

He didn’t want to acknowledge Castiel, acknowledge the fact that he still had some sort of hold over him. “Tough shit, buddy. I really don’t feel like talking.” Dean had been acting like a petulant child since he found out Castiel was his roommate. In for a penny, in for a pound right? 

The echo of loud explosions cut through the silence. Dean glanced back at the projection against the side of the building and said, “The movie’s almost over, I want to find out if the pilot kisses the stormtrooper.”

“He doesn’t,” Castiel replied cooly, “and you’re not leaving, Dean Winchester, not until I find out what sixteen-year-old me did to deserve this.” 

“So, you do remember.” Dean breathed in sharply. 

“I...no, you looked familiar so I looked you up. Apparently, we went to the same high school.” 

“Apparently? That’s it? And my name doesn’t ring any bells? Nothing?” Dean felt the anger that he so carefully packed away bursting at the seams. “You don’t remember making a fool of me, laughing at me when I finally laid myself open and confessed my feelings for you?”

Castiel recoiled as if slapped. “Wait, wait, that was YOU?” 

“No shit that was me!”

“You said you loved me, then ran away without even giving me a name!”

“I–” Dean stopped dead. “Wait what?”

“No name, no nothing. Just the L word followed by the F-bomb.” The corners of Castiel’s lips twitched.

“I...” Dean trailed off. He was indignant, embarrassed, and more than a little mortified. “You laughed at me!”

“So you ran?”

“Well, what would you do if you lay out your feelings and the asshole starts laughing? I wasn’t sure if you were mocking me or if you were going to punch me.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Dude, why would I punch you?”

“I duno, maybe you’re not gay?”

“Of course I’m fucking gay, the whole school knew.”

“Why did you laugh then?”

“You caught me off guard; I got nervous. I…” He paused as if lost in some painful memories before continuing, “I thought it was a joke.” 

Dean blinked in shock as the implications of Castiel’s words sank in. Suddenly, all the anger rushed out of him, leaving him feeling exhausted. 

“I thought you were too good looking to be actually into me,” Castiel murmured, “that it was some cruel joke. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Anyway, I’m sorry if I hurt you, even if it was completely unintentional.” 

The sadness behind those blue eyes burned through Dean, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to form words. All this time he spent feeling sorry for himself, not once did he actually think about Castiel’s side of things. 

“I looked for you, but you were gone,” Castiel added. 

They stared at each other. For a second, Castiel’s mask cracked, allowing Dean a glimpse of what looked like longing and regret. Then Castiel cleared his throat softly and the moment was gone. “I’ll leave you to your movie, see you tomorrow morning.” He gave Dean a faint smile and walked away, leaving him to collect his thoughts. 

***

It took Dean three tries before finally fitting his key into the electronic key slot. He closed the door gently behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark room. A soft green glow drew Dean’s attention to the ceiling.

“Are those glow-in-the-dark stars?” Dean asked, slightly amused.

There was a moment of silence, but eventually, Castiel replied, “Yeah.”

“My little brother was really into those,” Dean said as he dropped his bag on the loveseat. 

“Why did you leave?” Castiel asked abruptly, his voice was a hoarse gravel. 

“My dad– ” Dean cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “My dad died. Car accident. Mom couldn’t stand living here, said every little thing reminded her of him. So we moved.”

“Why didn’t you approach me earlier? Why then?”

“I was fifteen, still figuring out that I liked boys, and I had been crushing on you for over a year. When mom said we were moving, I didn’t want to have any regrets.” Dean snorted softly as if laughing at himself. “Fifteen-year-old me was a bit of a romantic. I guess I hoped that we could maybe start a long distance thing. Or something.” 

There was another drawn out silence, long enough that Dean wondered if Castiel had fallen asleep.

“If you’d like I can bring your stuff to the morning meetings until your request goes through.” Guess he wasn’t asleep after all.

“I, uh,” Dean stammered. “I was thinking about staying. If that’s okay with you,” He added quickly and crossed the small room until he was right next to Castiel’s bed. Blue eyes stared back at him. “I’m sorry for acting like a jerk; I can understand if you’d rather I didn’t stay.”

“I’ll forgive you on one condition.” Castiel leaned over the bedrail, his face inches from Dean’s. 

“Oh? What condition?” 

“Take me on a date.” Castiel’s lips curved up into a slow smile.

Dean’s surprise was short-lived, and he returned Castiel’s smile with a lopsided grin before leaning in to brush his lips against the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “How about now?” He glanced up towards the glowing ceiling. “You up for some star gazing?”


End file.
